


Cheesy Potato Soup

by chemicataclysm (toxictrubblez)



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Cooking, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Probably ooc, idk - Freeform, they have a sibling dynamic I guess (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxictrubblez/pseuds/chemicataclysm
Summary: A look into Nastya & Jonny's sibling dynamic and their relationship with soup.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville & Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Cheesy Potato Soup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [space_aces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_aces/gifts).



> First some warnings: Suicidal ideation is very briefly mentioned. it's not explored in detail or acted on, but it is said. There is also some minor blood/injury from fucking up while peeling potatoes. And, Jonny says the f slur (but i can reclaim it and i think he can too?????)
> 
> And then also:
> 
> I will be completely honest, I do not know anything about the mechs, this is a birthday gift for my boyfriend who i love very much. Anything I know about nastya and jonny comes from me reading his fics, asking my other boyfriend who likes the mechs, and frantically scanning the mechs channel in our server and trying to make sense of it all. sorry if this is out of character <3 its also not my best work as a result because... well im not in this fandom lmao hope u like it anyway

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nastya asked, flipping the lights on and narrowing her eyes and staring at Jonny, who was standing at the kitchen counter peeling a potato with a knife. While it wasn’t too out of character for him to be cooking, the fact that he was doing so in the dark at god knows what hour was definitely worthy of questioning.

Jonny just shrugged and continued what he was doing. He didn’t look at Nastya and instead watched as the potato peels fell onto a sheet of parchment paper that he had spread out on the countertop. “I could ask you the same thing,” He shot back instead of answering her, “What the fuck are _you_ doing? Shouldn’t you be crammed in a ventilation shaft or some shit?”

“I’m just getting water,” She huffed as she walked over to one of the cabinets, swinging it open and grabbing a cup. She went over to the fridge and pressed the glass up against the water dispenser, her gaze still fixed on Jonny. “Now tell me what you’re doing or I’ll shoot you before you can finish.”

“I’m making soup,” Jonny said simply, rolling his eyes as he spoke and starting to chop the now peeled potato up into little cubes, which he dropped into a pot of boiling water. He grabbed another potato and started to peel it afterwards.

“Why the hell are you making soup in the dark?” Nastya asked, “Did you get brain damage somehow? Are you dumb enough to not at least turn the lights on?”

Jonny shrugged again. “Nah, I’m not dumb, just a fag,” He said with a laugh. “I wanted soup and I was lazy. Turning the lights on is a lot of effort.”

“I am literally so homophobic,” Nastya said, “I oughta shoot you anyway just for-” She cut herself off when she felt cold water pour over onto her hand, and she looked at her cup, scowling when she realized at it was still pressed against the water dispenser and overflowing as a result. She jerked her hand away, causing more water to slosh at and wet her clothes. 

Jonny stopped peeling his potato for a moment to laugh and point at her with his knife. “Hah! See? That’s what you get for giving me shit for cooking in the dark. Call that karma, bitch!”

Nastya grumbled and set her cup down on the counter, grabbing a rag and drying her arm off. She glared at Jonny. “What kind of soup are you even making?”

“Cheesy potato soup,” Jonny answered, cutting the potato up into cubes again and added them to the pot, putting a lid on it. “It’s my favorite.”

“It probably tastes like shit,” Nastya scoffed, hopping up and taking a seat on the counter. “Let me try some when it’s done.”

Jonny shook his head, grabbing an onion and starting to dice it. “No. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you have any of my soup. I’m making it for me, not for bitches who spill water on themselves.”

Nastya made no move to leave despite Jonny telling her he wouldn’t let her have any soup. She knew Jonny, and she knew how to tell when he was lying. He was going to give her a bowl, he just liked to be dramatic about shit like this. She took a sip of her water and watched intently as Jonny continued to cook, the two of them falling into comfortable silence. 

When the potatoes were done boiling, Jonny drained the pot and reserved a cup of the water, setting the cooked potatoes aside as he added the butter and diced onions into the now empty pot, cooking them until caramelized. Then he added flour, milk, sugar, ham, cheddar cheese, and the potatoes and water from earlier. He put the lid back on, humming to himself and setting a timer for half an hour.

Nastya hadn’t actually been hungry when she walked into the kitchen, but she definitely was now. The delicious smell of the soup and the passing time made her stomach grumble. While she’d never admit it outloud, the cheesy potato soup sounded great, and she couldn’t wait for it to be done. 

The timer went off sooner than later, and Jonny took the lid off of the pot, grabbing two bowls and labeling the soup into them. He walked over to where Nastya was sitting and set one of the bowls down next to her along with a spoon. “I poisoned it and it will kill you within twenty four hours.”

“If that’s the case it’ll kill you too,” She said, sticking her tongue out. She grabbed her spoon and dipped it into her soup, bringing it up to her mouth and blowing on it before eating a mouthful. Her eyes lit up almost immediately and she barely fought back the smile that formed on her face. It was good. Really good. Despite everything, Jonny was a good cook.

Jonny chuckled at her reaction, eating a spoonful of his own bowl. “How is it?” He asked, half teasing and half curious what her answer it would be.

“It tastes like death and I’ll decapitate you for ever feeding me something this awful.”

\---

“Y’know, if you’re going to keep eating my soup, you need to actually help make it,” Jonny said one night, “At this point you’re just freeloading off of my cooking skills.” The two of them having soup together late at night had just become a thing now, but he was starting to get annoyed with the fact that Nastya never helped cook. Sure, he’d end up giving the soup to her regardless of whether or not she helped out since, even though he’d never admit it, she was good company, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to either make her cook too or continually complain about the fact that she didn’t.

Nastya was sitting on the counter again and she crossed her arms. “I don’t know how to make it,” She argued, “I couldn’t help if I wanted to. And trust me, I don’t.”

“I’ll just have to teach you then,” Jonny said simply, beckoning for her to come over. “C’mon, it ain’t too hard, I’ll just have you peel the potatoes and then cut them into little cubes. It’s not rocket science or anything.”

“I’d much rather do rocket science,” Nastya said, getting up anyway and walking over to where Jonny was. She took a knife out of the silverware drawer and picked up a potato.

Jonny grabbed a potato too. “Too fucking bad,” He chuckled, starting to carefully peel his potato far slower than he normally would, holding it out so Nastya could see what he was doing. “I don’t really know how to explain this, but all you gotta do is cut the peels off without cutting too far into the potato itself. Don’t worry about picking them up or anything, either. Just let them fall onto the parchment paper.”

Nastya nodded and started trying to mimic was Jonny was doing, albeit with far less care and precision. She stuck her tongue out as she worked, digging her knife into the potato and gliding it across until the chunk of peel landed on the parchment paper. She was used to working carefully on small things, due to her love of robotics, so she figured this wouldn’t be any different. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Turns out, cooking and repairing machinery took entirely different mindsets.

“Christ, you’re bad at peeling potatoes, princess,” Jonny snickered, looking over at Nastya, “You’re only supposed to cut the peels off, not cut it into pieces. I swear to fuck there’s more potato on the parchment than there is in your hand.”

“Don’t call me that!” Nastya huffed, glaring at Jonny, “And shut up while you’re at it too. It’s not my fault I’m shit at this, I never really had to cook when I was younger.”

Jonny laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just saying, try not to cut so deep. We want to actually have potatoes in our potato soup.”

Nastya grit her teeth but nodded, changing the angle of her knife and slicing it through the potato again, closer to the surface this time so that only the peel was being cut off. She felt weirdly proud when the peel fell onto the parchment. Compared to the other chunks on it, it was actually, well… peel. Jonny was right when he pointed out that she had basically just been cutting the potato earlier. While she was following his advice a bit begrudgingly, it felt nice to actually succeed at peeling the potato. 

She bit back a smile, shrugging and then gesturing vaguely with her knife and what was left of the potato in her hand. “Whatever. Is that better?”

“Yeah, that’s better,” Jonny said, “Keep it up and you might actually be a decent cook.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Nastya huffed, continuing to peel the potato in the way Jonny told her to despite her words. 

Jonny barked out a laugh at that, already done peeling his own potato. He set it down on the cutting board and started to chop it up into little cubes. “I’ll tell you whatever I fucking want.”

“If you can tell me whatever you want, then I get to say whatever I want,” Nastya said, “Do you wanna hear about my sexlife? Huh? Wanna hear about me and The Aurora?”

“I would literally rather die,” Jonny muttered, picking up his potato cubes and dropping them into the pot of water.

Nastya laughed this time, grinning from ear to ear. “Then die! I wanna talk about the wires, Jonny. I wanna talk about how she uses her wires to-”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, please, I am literally begging you to shut up,” Jonny pleaded, cutting her off, “I am literally so fucking uncomfortable. Just finish peeling your potato already so we can finish the soup and be done with this.”

“Actually, I just finished peeling it,” Nastya said, holding up her poorly peeled potato proudly, “What now?”

Jonny looked at it. “It looks like shit,” He said, “Now you just have to cut it into cubes. Pretty self explanatory.”

Nastya nodded and then set her potato down on the cutting board. She hesitated for a moment, then started trying her best to chop it up. She wasn’t doing an amazing job, but her cutting style certainly got the job done.

Until she suddenly let out a pained yelp. 

“Fuck-” She cursed, jerking her hand away and bringing it to her mouth, biting down on the fresh cut and grimacing. She had cut through her finger. Sure, it wasn’t the end of the world, but it still hurt like a bitch.

Jonny chuckled, lightly shoving her away and taking over for her, cutting the rest of the potato up nice and neatly. “That’s what you get for holding your knife wrong,” He said as he dropped the cubes into the pot.

“Well you never taught me how to hold it, you bastard!” Nastya walked over to the sink and started to wash her cut off, frowning. “Now there’s going to be blood in the soup. This is why I didn’t want to help.”

“Eh, a little blood never hurt anybody,” Jonny said with a shrug, “We’ll just call it extra seasoning.” 

When the soup was done, it was easily the worst soup Jonny had ever made, and the worst soup they’d eaten together. It wasn’t awful or anything, but compared to the soup they’d had together before, it was clear that something was seriously wrong with it. 

But that didn’t matter to either of them. Despite everything, it was the most fun they had ever had making soup together too.

\---

The next time they made soup together, it wasn’t nearly as cheery. Neither of them spoke as they cut the potatoes. The only reason they were cooking to begin with was to get Nastya’s mind off of things. She had been feeling rather down lately, and Jonny didn’t know how to help; Emotions had never been his strong suit, and talking about things wasn’t something he and Nastya liked to do. So, he figured distracting her would be a good move. It took some arguing, but he managed to convince her to climb out of where she had been hiding and come to the kitchen to make soup. 

“You’ve gotten better at peeling your potatoes,” Jonny muttered finally as he picked up Nastya’s freshly cubed potatoes and put them in the pot, “And at cutting them too. There’s no blood on them this time.” It was a poor attempt at humor, but neither of them were in the mood to so much as force a laugh.

Nastya only shrugged. “I guess,” She sighed, “Not like it really matters. We ate the bloody soup anyway.”

Jonny nodded, feeling awkward. For a moment, he wished that he were better with feelings and that they had talked about things before. Then he realized he’d literally rather die than acknowledge his own emotions or talk about what they’d been through in depth. He swallowed down any negative emotions he was feeling, and turned his attention to the soup, wordlessly putting the lid on it and waiting for it to boil.

Just like last time, he drained the potatoes once they were fully cooked and set aside a cup of the hot water. He placed the now cooked potatoes to the side and added butter and onions to the pot, cooking them for a bit before adding flour, milk, sugar, ham, cheddar cheese, and the potatoes and water. Then he put the lid back on.

The awkward silence and tension only continued as the soup cooked, and it got arguably worse when it was done. Jonny poured a bowl for himself and then one for Nastya. He cleared his throat and nodded his head towards the table, setting the bowls down at it. 

“Here, let’s actually eat at the table this time, princess,” He pulled out Nastya’s chair for her and then sat down in his own, quickly going silent as he started to eat.

Nastya just nodded and sat down in her chair without saying anything, blankly staring down at her soup. She didn’t even pick up the spoon. Now that the soup was done, there wasn’t anything to distract her from her own mind, which ran rampant with thoughts she wished she could ignore. Before she knew it, tears were bubbling up in her eyes.

Jonny frowned and looked over at her, his spoon still in hand. He set down on the table. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. “Nastya…” He said cautiously, “... What uh… What’re you thinking about?”

Nastya looked away and covered her eyes. “Dr. Carmilla,” She said finally, voice wobbly. “She…” Nastya had to pause for a moment, struggling to find the right words. As she tried to think of what to say, the tears only grew in number, now running down her face and falling onto the table. She hunched her shoulders and bit her lip. “... She really fucked me up.”

Jonny gave a sympathetic nod, but was even more unsure what to do with himself now. Dr. Carmilla was a topic he just tried to avoid. Ever since he tossed her out the airlock, he tried to erase her from his mind. He had no clue what to say and no clue how to comfort Nastya.

After a while, he just pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry into her shoulder.

Nastya didn’t even try to push him away, which was a sign of just how emotionally drained she was. Sobs wracked her body as she hugged Jonny back, sniffling and hiding her face as she cried. When her crying had finally died down, Jonny still didn’t let go of her, which she was secretly thankful for.

“Never tell anyone this,” She started, still holding onto him, “But sometimes… I want to die. Like, actually die. I wish I could die, Jonny.”

She hugged him for a bit longer, and then pulled away, picking up her spoon and starting to eat her soup.

Jonny desperately wanted to comment on what she said, but knew she’d kill him for it, so he just went back to eating too. “The soups cold now,” He sighed instead of saying anything related to her admission.

“It tastes like shit too,” Nastya replied, eating it anyway.

\---

Now that Nastya was gone, Jonny didn’t cook soup as much. It made him think of her more than he could bear. Just the idea of cooking it made him remember all the nights he spent laughing and joking with her in the kitchen, and that always left him sobbing on the floor, so horribly alone. He liked to ignore those feelings and those memories. He was the last one to speak to her before she left. He was the only one who knew she was never coming back. It killed him to bottle it all up, but he knew he had to.

When he did cook soup, it was only on those drunken nights where he needed to remember what it was like to have her around for the sake of his own sanity. Remembering hurt, but the idea of forgetting was worse. 

He looked down at the potato he was peeling, his vision blurred from both tears and alcohol. It was hard to peel a potato when he wasn’t sober, but he tried his best. He needed this right now. He wasn’t sure if cooking soup was a healing act or an act of self harm, but he had convinced himself it was necessary. It was one of the only ways Nastya could live on, he thought. 

Jonny gritted his teeth when the knife dug into his hand after a particularly clumsy slice. Blood splattered onto the parchment paper. His mind flashed back to Nastya accidentally cutting herself.

“Shit,” He cursed, tossing the potato onto the cutting board and chopping it up into cubes anyway, ignoring how it was covered in blood. “It’s all so fucking pointless anyway.” He blinked back the tears that bubbled up in his eyes.

When the soup was done, it tasted just as bad as the soup he and Nastya had made that first time she helped, which only served to make Jonny feel worse. 

When the other Mechanisms found him on the table with a bullet through his brain and blood in his half eaten soup, they didn’t question it. When he locked himself in his room to sulk the next day, they didn’t question it either.

\---

Jonny woke up to somebody tugging at his shirt. His first reaction was to grab his gun, but then he looked at the figure and realized who it was. For a moment, all the air left his body, and he was left speechless, his eyes wide. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, convinced he was still dreaming, but when he looked again they were still there.

“Nastya…?” He asked quietly, his voice cautious and careful, as if just saying her name out loud would make her disappear again.

She nodded, a sad smile forming on her face. “Yeah, It’s me Jonny. I’m back,” She said, “... A mechanism always comes back no matter what.” There were tears in her eyes, and tears started to bubble up in Jonny’s.

Without saying anything, Jonny sprang forward and pulled Nastya into a tight hug, crying more openly than he normally would. “You’re back! You’re actually back, I missed you so much, I- You-” He said too quickly, the words rushing out of his mouth like he was in a hurry to say everything he had on his mind. But then he pulled away and went silent when he finally got a good look at her. 

Her eyes looked glossy and distant, and the bags under them had never been worse. Her glasses were broken and her hair was overgrown. Her clothing was torn up and covered in frost, and she looked like she had been at death’s door.

Jonny had a billion things he wanted to say. So many questions to ask, pleas to voice, and promises he wanted to make. But he didn’t. For now, he knew it’d be best to wait, and give Nastya time to adjust to being back. So, instead of saying what he wanted to, he just forced a smile and looked up at her.

“You look like shit. L-Let’s get some food in your stomach,” He said, wiping at his eyes, “Do you wanna make some soup? Like we used to?”

Nastya broke down sobbing, nodding her head as she cried at the foot of Jonny’s bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: soup is a really funny word to me and I had trouble taking this seriously as a result. Since i dont know the characters i was just like O___O Soup.


End file.
